


The Morning After

by VirginiasWolf



Series: Life Moves On [3]
Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M, Self-Harm, suicide attempt mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 17:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20782430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VirginiasWolf/pseuds/VirginiasWolf
Summary: Although Richard and Camille's first date was practically perfect, the next morning offers some harsh realities and a chance for them to have their first real discussion as a couple.Part of the Life Moves On series taking place in between From Paris With Love and London Calling.





	The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's weird to essentially go back and patch in earlier parts of a series, but looking back I realized I had left some pretty heady time gaps and by consequence also ignored some important events. I would also like to eventually tackle Richard being reunited with his parents, Some fics about the islanders initially reacting to finding out he is alive and the conversation that Catherine and Camille had during "A Saint Marie Welcome Home". I do also plan to continue moving the series in a forward direction as well though.

The sound of shattering glass wakes Camille out of a dead sleep, and in the haze of panic she realizes that she is completely alone in bed. It is the morning after that first perfect date, well perfect considering the circumstances, and she had been naive enough to assume that it would all lead to a round of blissful morning sex, or at least of just holding him in bed. Instead, she can hear Richard muttering to himself in the bathroom. "You stupid idiot. How can you ever expect her to love you when you can't even keep from hurting yourself. What's she going to think when she sees you like this?"

  
As her mind clears, Camille manages to put together what must have happened. He must have punched the mirror. Something set him off. She isn't sure exactly what, but whatever it was made him want to self-harm. Right now he doesn't know that she's awake, although once he clears from his own fog he'll certainly realize that the shattering glass must have awoken her. She needs to get to him without startling him so that she can calm him enough that he'll allow her to bandage his wounds and then if it doesn't hurt him too much, they'll talk about whatever set him off. Then they'll put their heads together and figure out some lie to tell the hotel staff about why the mirror is broken. Perhaps she should be scared right now, but she isn't. She knows he isn't going to hurt her. His violent tendencies are only directed towards himself, and while this certainly isn't reassuring in a true sense, it at least means she won't come to harm.

  
Carefully she grabs his shirt off the floor and slips it on, suddenly wishing that she had worn undergarments the previous night so that she wouldn't feel so terribly naked right now. Her feet are silent on the carpeted floor and she is able to sneak over to the bathroom door which is open a fraction of an inch. She tries to open it the rest of the way as quietly as possible, but even this slightest of movements causes him to flinch and immediately avert his gaze.

  
"Can I look at your hand?" She purposely makes her voice as soft and non-threatening as possible so that he can't project any emotions such as disgust or horror into it. The mirror is cracked in a radiating pattern but hasn't actually shattered so she is able to easily slip into the bathroom behind him and repeat her question. "Can I look at your hand?"

  
Richard nods weakly and it seems as if all of the adrenaline must have gone out of him leaving only a man who is now scared, injured and clearly in pain.

  
Carefully she reaches out to touch his wounded hand and he winces as her fingers brush across the bloody knuckles. "There doesn't seem to be any glass embedded in them which is good, but I'll be able to see the damage better once we get all the blood rinsed off. What were you thinking, Richard?"

  
"It doesn't matter. You'll just think I was being stupid anyway," he mutters bitterly as he allows her to run the faucet over his hand.

  
Well, to be fair he was being a little stupid. Or maybe stupid isn't the right word. He was being reckless, and the man she knows him to be isn't reckless. He's an intelligent, careful individual, but he's also currently incredibly broken and that is making him stupid. She won't word it like that though. "I think it makes more sense for you to talk through whatever is bothering you than to hurt yourself over it. I'm not going to be cruel about whatever you say, but I don't like this." She brushes her fingers over his knuckles again, this time making a point to be extremely gentle.

  
Camille is able to pull the first aid kit out from under the sink before leading Richard back to the bedroom where she convinces him to sit on the bed while she tends to his wound. She can't help but notice how small and weak he looks. She's always known that he's rather small-statured for a man, probably no taller than 5'8", but somehow seeing him sitting on the bed in only his underwear strips him of all the mythos that had perhaps made him look larger. He looks completely human, and not in the way that she had once told him she liked.

  
After several minutes of silence, he speaks. "I thought I'd be happier after last night."

  
She'd been so caught up in how much she wanted him, that she hadn't considered that maybe he didn't want her in the same way. Perhaps he'd just been too polite to outright tell her that he didn't want her in the same way she wanted him. He'd just felt lonely and desperate for the touch of another human being and she had felt like someone safe to him. The thought that she may have put so much more into last night than he'd ever wanted absolutely breaks her, but Bordey women don't cry over broken hearts. "I shouldn't have forced myself onto you." Quickly she stands up from the bed and starts to look around the room for her dress. No need to make this more awkward for him by sticking around.

  
Richard immediately looks up at her and for a second it looks as if he's struggling to find the right words before an almost resigned look crosses his face. "Being able to love you has been the one thing that has actually managed to make me happy." He pauses for a moment before adding weakly "At least I have one person who sees me as human."

  
Initially, the only response Camille can come up with is to blink in shock. She wishes that she could just tell him that he must be completely wrong in that regard, but something about the look in his eyes tells her that he knows things he hasn't yet told her so instead of arguing she just sits down next to him on the bed again and waits for him to continue.

  
After what seems like an eternity, but really just encompasses the time he needs to calm himself down, he finally does continue. "I'm not being speculative on this. I truly wish I was, but Charles outright told me that the next time I attempted suicide I should at least have the common decency to finish the job. That was after my second attempt, the one where I...where I tried to slit my wrists. That one happened three weeks before you showed up. The first one...the first one was on Christmas Eve." He draws his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on top of them. In a way, it almost seems like he's tightening himself against the outside world, but she gets the feeling that he's doing so to show that he feels comfortable enough to be vulnerable with her.

  
Softly, Camille reaches over to run her fingers through his hair and he sighs and closes his eyes clearly enjoying the touch.

"I should have been here to take care of you."

  
In the past he probably would have argued with her on this point, stating that he isn't a child and therefore doesn't need her care, but instead of fighting, he murmurs "You had no way of knowing that I needed you."

  
Now, the tears that she had been so close to shedding earlier finally do fall, but this time for a much different reason and it happens to be one that she isn't ashamed about. "You shouldn't have had to go through any of that alone."

  
"Well, there wasn't really very much you could have done in those first six months when I was in a coma."

  
"Oh, I can think of a few things." She pauses for a moment to watch his blissful reactions towards her continued touch on his scalp. "Reading the newspaper, shaving your stubble, helping the nurses by giving you sponge baths."

  
At the last comment, his eyes shoot open and he yelps and jumps slightly away from her touch, "Camille!"

  
"It is hardly something to be embarrassed about. You could hardly have done it on your own and I am sure it would have been comforting for both of us."

  
Much to her surprise, he doesn't argue with her. Instead, he simply responds, "It's very cold here."

  
Camille is about to tease him by pointing out that he is sitting on a bed wearing only his underwear. Of course, he's going to feel a bit cold.

  
However, before she can open her mouth he adds on to his previous statement. "Emotionally cold I mean. I know I don't exactly seem like the most affectionate person, but at least back on the island you and the team would usually try to include me in your lives. Here it's almost like I'm seen as some sort of robot brain who's expected to be able to churn out whatever results or information they need without expecting anything in return. Even after my first suicide attempt they just continued to pretend I was just their robot, and believe me they knew what had happened. Charles was all too happy to proclaim to everyone how close I'd been to going over the edge."

  
It hits her that once he'd seen her blindly talking with Charles he must have even grown to believe that she too had been willing to take part in his dehumanization. Surely that presumed betrayal must have stung him worst of all. Looking over at him, she can see in his eyes that he's relieved he was able to get all this off of his chest, but now he also needs some sort of distraction from the heaviness. "To tell you the truth I don't much like it here either," she admits waiting to see exactly how he'll react to this confession.

  
One of those adorable boyish grins appears and he returns with a tease, which is exactly what she had hoped for. "I suppose you've been spoiled by your island climate?"

  
"No, I don't think Saint Marie is quite the right place for me either. Lately, I have felt more like a primary school teacher than a detective sergeant."

  
At this Richard only responds by raising an eyebrow in confusion.

  
"Let's just say that you are no longer the most annoying man I've ever met. Your replacement is no doubt an intelligent man, but he is hardly a functioning adult. Case notes on napkins and brochures often written with MY pens. Constantly spilling or breaking things. Sometimes I'd ask him a question and he'd just blurt out a false answer because he got too panicked to remember the correct one. I spent so much time trying to keep him out of trouble because I still had pride and my job, and he repaid me by suddenly becoming convinced I was his soulmate."

  
Richard makes a strange almost strangled sound and then she realizes he's actually laughing at her. Sure her confession wasn't nearly as dramatic or impactful as his was, but damnit she'd needed to get that off her chest and now he's laughing at her. The anger only lasts a split second before it turns to relief though. His laughter is a nice sound, and she wonders if perhaps she's hearing his first laugh in over a year. She can see the humor in the situation too. 

  
Soon, she's laughing along with him and it just feels right, like this is exactly what love is supposed to be. Finally, the laughter dies down and they lean against each other for a moment before she voices the idea that has just hit her. "I have a plan. Together we will hold up each other until we find a way for both of us to leave and then we will find a nice little house in London."

  
For the briefest of moments, he is silent and she wonders if there is something he doesn't like about her offer, although she feels it is pretty solid. Then he leans over to press his lips to hers as his uninjured hand slips beneath the fabric of her shirt. "I think I will very much enjoy making sure you do not forget your offer, but first we have some far more pressing matters to attend to here in Paris."

  
The matters they attend to for the next hour are indeed quite pressing, and although he is still every bit an Englishman, there is something distinctly French about the ways in which he uses his mouth on her.


End file.
